Artists Blog

Busy in the studio today with feathers the kookaburra family kindly left behind. I couldn’t find my wide mouthed waterjar, and with nothing else to hand I splashed out with the crystal. Felt very opulent painting with this, and tapping water droplets off my brush made the most lovely tinkling ring.

Watercolour on 300gsm rough

I enjoyed painting these, which got me thinking about the rest of my HUGE feather collection. In boxes, in bags, in bottles, in baskets, in buckets. They are everywhere!  Who said crystal vases were just for flowers?

Up until now I haven’t givent the full account of the Python vs Cockatoo sagas, as I was under obligation to the media. Diane from Adventure before Dementia has had a slithery visitor recently and wanted to know where the story was. So here is possibly the longest python post in the world….

Tropical North Queensland is a hotbed of prolific wildlife activity. Both day and night we witnessed the most incredible scenes right in our backyard. My home backed onto Deep Creek (where a very old salty lived), and out front Dead Man’s Gully (I assumed someone met the salty, judging from the name of this creek). Lots of water, constant temp & humidity and remnant rainforest are the favoured habitat of wildlife around here. Humans are merely visitors in this landscape.

Our house was surrounded by fruiting rainforest trees which brought the cockatoos (cockies) by day and bats by night. Unfortunately Beak and Feather Disease is rampant amongst the older birds, resulting in the slow loss of flight capability. A pair of “dodgy” cockies visited my yard everyday, but one evening one of them could no longer launch itself into the air. It decided to spend the night in my bougainvillea, approximately 2metres above ground. Bad decision.

Around 8pm I heard an almighty screeching from the backyard. Running outside with a torch, I searched the yard until coiling movement in the bougainvillea caught my eye. As I approached, I knew that it was too late to try and save the poor cocky – it was literally breathing it’s last breath as it’s eyes slowly closed (above photo).

The python seemed unperturbed by my close presence, coiling tighter around the cocky’s body. I ran inside to grab the camera, and then spent the next 2 hours witnessing nature’s life cycle first hand.

During the killing process, the python kept his head well above the “action”, appearing at times to be almost disinterested in what the lower part of his body was doing. Once the cocky hung limp, he lowered himself under the bird and opened his jaws around the back of the cocky’s head. The snake’s whole body rippled with each convulsive bite – scales shimmering with that trademark purple sheen.

Having eventually succeeded in swallowing his prey, the scrubby was happy just to “sit a spell”, tongue flickering at me as I took his portrait shots. Eventually he headed off toward the fence and into the darkness of the bush.

The next few days saw the remaining cocky pine away for it’s mate, as it too lost it’s ability to fly. Eight days after the first attack, at around 9pm, I once again heard a piercing screeching from the backyard. I didn’t have to go outside to know what it meant. This time the cocky was very much still alive, looking me straight in the eye, squawking for dear life. I had only earlier that day removed a paralysis tick from this cocky’s head, and had rung the vet about him. I thought I’d try and save this one. I grabbed the hose and turned it full bore on the python.

If a python could say “pfffft”, then this guy would’ve. He didn’t care less about the water or my presence. Once again the snake appeared distinterested in the bird until it was dead. At least this again was a quick death.

This python was slighty smaller than the last visitor (2.5 m compared to the previous 3.5). Once again, coils cleverly aligned wings and feet into a neat tube-like shape, as the cocky was slowly consumed.

We had a few witnesses to these attacks, and the python didn’t give 2 figs. My son recorded the whole incident on a digital movie format (lasted for about 1 hour), the neighbours came over and took some snaps (one had a visiting American friend who was completely aghast at the ferocity of Aussie wildlife), and even the cat and dog watched on.

Now the bounganvillea is referred to as “The Tree of Death” by the neighbours. I only wish the scrubbies could “take care” of the massive bandicoot that digs up the garden every night!

Can you guess what these are?

Hint: The river is named after them.

Black swans on the Swan River.

Off to a Ball now by the banks of that very same river.

Whenever I need a shot of colour inspiration I turn to the garden. Now that it’s cooler (meaning under 40C/104F!) I’m out there a whole lot more.

Blue Iris feeling fresh in the morning.

Candy Cane Frangipanis scent the air.

Looking down the throat of the Leopard spotted canna lily reminds me of the 1960′s show ”Time Tunnel”.

The hibiscus are madly flowering their heads off, and it’s magic watching them unfold right before your eyes in the morning - from tight bud to full flamboyant bloom in minutes.

Insects are out and about in the dawn light as well. Fly for breakfast anyone?

And of course the bees never stop.

Morning always reveals surprises.

Other winged creatures show up out front at first light.

Then stay for a seista on my front door mat. Gives the Postie a surprise sometimes!

Throughout the day more visitors come and go.

These long beaked Corellas can create carnage to a lawned area in mere minutes.

Watching the blue dragonflies hunt and dance can be quite hypnotic. They look you straight in the eye as well.

Now we have four turtle doves instead of two.

I can feel some botanical drawing/painting urges coming on…

On Sunday I joined the North Coast Art Club. These artists get together once a month to paint with each other in really relaxed, supportive atmosphere. You can’t get much more supportive than boxes of good chocolates and cups of tea!

Whilst at the Art Club I started my next painting, a miniature, with a familiar subject.

These Forest Kingfishers lived in my garden and the surrounding bush, and were more than happy to pose for photos.

I hope to finish him at home quite soon.

Do you remember the Mystery of the Fish Skull? (click here for original post) Well, scientists at a local University have deemed it a BATFISH, which I had taken underwater photos of at the Great Barrier Reef off Green Island. I still wouldn’t have guessed it.

Thanks to all who took the time to offer suggestions!

Thanks to all of you for your comments, they really mean a lot to me. I have been such a slacker with posting of late – lots of “Real World” goings-on PLUS fighting for the computer = not a lot of posting.

 Another soon-to-be-cyclone is brewing out in the Coral Sea. Bring on the Dry Season and soon!

I’ve been stewing on all the things I’ve got on my “To Do” list as well. I don’t physically have a written down list, just a mental note that seems to be growing by the hour! When did organising one’s life get so hard?

Still, whenever things seem to get overwhelming, a walk and sit outside brings everything back into focus. There are hundreds of butterflies around at the moment, on a manic mission to drink lots of sugar and mate. Not a bad lifestyle really.

This dusk shot of the brilliant blue Ulysses is a bit grainy, but the blue was just so intense in the evening light.

Pink pegs on the clothesline are a favourtie spot for these Eggfly butterflies, who are so often dancing duets in the air – circling round and around each other but never colliding.

I’m feeling a bit disillusioined with art at the moment. So many Galleries have closed down here in Cairns. Lots of artists have lost money and trust. The economic woes of the world has really hit hard in this tourist town – lots of businesses are really doing it tough. On a brighter note I have ben invited to “try out” for the Miniature Society – they have two judged intakes per year – the next being in April. I need to complete 6 pieces (no bigger then 10cm on the longer side) to be considered. I’ve only ever done the one miniature for the exhibition late last year.

Still not sure whether I’m up to the task – more stewing on the subject required!

Image courtesy of the Bureau of Meteorology

Cyclone Hamish could be here as early as tomorrow night/saturday morning. There goes the weekend plans of exploring the Tablelands. Still, might be less crowded at the Coffee Plantation.

Thanks for all your lovely comments on the last post. I was hoping to be able to get a lot of painting done, but the Evil Taxation Return had other plans for me. It’s still not completed, and it’s like an infected thorn sticking in my toe. I was wading waist deep in papers, some going back to the 90′s, which thankfully are on their way to a new life in the reincarnation recycling bin. You know what it’s like, once I get bitten by the Purge Bug, I keep doggedly on, ripping up old bank statments with maniacal glee. Tax returns from the 80′s (just how did we survive on incomes so low?) even surfaced. I used to keep everything. Just in case. (Margie I can hear you laughing from here you know…)

Anyway, in an effort to tear myself away from all things mind numbing and soul destroying, I unwrapped a beautiful new Italian sketchbook (The Moleskine) this evening, and felt quite inspired admiring it’s creamy blank pages. Elli commented on linework in the last post, and linework is just what I need right now. There is an exhibition entitled “Line” closing soon, so I need to get a wriggle on. The lovely Elli also commented on museums being the source/inspiration for good work, and I do sadly miss them living up here. One of my favourite was the London Natural History Museum. I could live there and never ever get bored. The moment you set foot in that wonderous building you feel awe (and that Harry Potter might appear any minute). When I was there a while back I took so many (poor) photos. (This was still the age of film). I really think it inspired me to build my own naturalist’s collection, which I have been doing since I was a wee thing, much to my mother’s disdain. A decomposing red-bellied black snakes’s skin was binned whilst I was at school one day.

Everything was just so beautifully presented in polished timber cases. Did  anyone see the ABC’s recent series on the London Museum? How pedantic were they with dust getting into displays? Amazing dedication.

And the organisation – oh! It made me want to swoon.

So once back in Perth I built up a collection, mainly of beachy things, as we lived on the coast. After winter storms were the best time for finding unusual things, when the sea bed was trawled up and dumped on the sand. A lot of it stunk to high heaven, even after lots of bleach was involved. An outside collection was the best place until the smell disappeared.

When I proposed a piece for a Royal Show exhibition, I turned to my collection. I was able to use my finds, and gathered knowledge to put together a huge body of work, which won the Blue Ribbon at the Show. It met an untimely demise which I haven’t written about, but I did post some better photos under a post (click) HERE.

Below are some really bad photos from the film days.

So now I’m really keen to get some of my Tropical finds down on paper, captured in lines. Maybe even a splash of colour as well.

The Tax can wait.

You may have heard in the news that ALL of North Queensland (from Townsville up to the tip at Cape York) was blacked out from 5.30 last night. That’s over 700,000 homes and everything else without power. We tried the radio in the cars to find out what was happening but even the stations were’nt transmitting anything but static.

At first it was rather Robinson Crusoe, with candles alight and chatting to people in the street. But once the lack of Air Conditioning kicked in, it lost it’s romantic appeal pretty quickly. My neighbour said that after he checked his fuse box, he went to see if my air conditioners were running. When he saw a still fan, he knew the power must be out everywhere. Operating air conditioners are the one constant in my household, after all I need my AC in the Tropics!

So to “escape the heat” we headed down to one of our spots by the beach, the place where I get my fancy frozen cocktails-in-a-martini-glass. It’s an almost new $4 million  building, so surely they had their own genny. Nope. With only one cash register operating on batteries that were fast running out, the call was for “LAST ROUND”.

“What about first round?” I asked.

“As they’re your first drinks, on the house!” was the reply.

Sipping from deliciously icy glasses, chatting on the balcony overlooking the beach, blackouts were not so bad after all.

But as it was getting dark, the orders were given to lock up and leave. This was the story all over the city. The whole area was deepest black.

Except for one shining light in the darkness – the Golf Course Clubhouse has a genny the size of a whale, so onwards for more refreshments and  most needed AC! A lovely evening in spite of everything.

The power returned later in the evening, and the sort-of explanation today is that a bird’s nest was the culprit. Amazing.

So in keeping with the theme, here are some recent nest builders that have kept me enthralled.

You may remember a previous post where this Willy Wagtail was busily constructing this nest.

Can you see what is sticking out from underneath the white belly feathers?

Two hungry beaks squawking.

As soon as the parents flew away to find food, the little beaks closed, heads drooped and they dropped off to sleep. But as soon as the parents returned, they stretched those beaks wide and clamoured and wailed like any hungry child. All with their eyes closed.

The chores of parents are the same the world over.

Now here’s another sort of nest, and not the traditional kind. More like “where ever I lay my eggs, that’s my home”.

I’ve not seen speckled eggs in the wild before. The mother was standing not far off, and we thought  it odd that she wasn’t running away, until we spied her treasures. We quickly moved off and she was blissful once again.

They still look Jurassic, those Bush Stone Curlews. Waaaaailing away every night, outside the bedroom window, for all the world sounding like they are committing/witnessing bloody murder.

I think we’ve almost kinda used to it now. Almost.

…your photos make it into the weekly magazines.

And you know you’ve really made it if one of them is a booby magazine.

Because we all know that big boobs and pythons go hand in hand.

(Please excuse my tongue-in-cheekiness!)

Leaving the back gate open provides an open invitation to arguably the noisiest night birds IN EXSISTENCE to wander around as if they own the place.

I do apologise for the “murkiness” of the photos. It’s so humid now that the lense fogs up as soon as I take it oudoors!

Bush Stone Curlew Pair (with chicks stashed by the gate) see what’s around my patio. One fell asleep by the sliding door.

Orange Footed Scrub Hens dig up my re-planted chilli plants if they can. That damn bandicoot digs them up each night and tosses them on the lawn. He performed that endearing trick on the passionfruit vine each night until I built a brick pyramid around it’s base. If I have to do that with each new plant I may as well concrete the garden beds!

Gotta run, that’s more lightening and thunder heading my way. Fingers crossed for buckets of rain – all on that bandicoot!